


Territory Crash (an attl au)

by Kamari333



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Fellswap (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Biting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Come Swallowing, Couch Cuddles, Creampie, Cuckolding, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Fellswap Papyrus (Undertale) - Freeform, Fellswap Papyrus/Fellswap Sans (Undertale), Fellswap Sans (Undertale) - Freeform, Gags, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Protectiveness, Sans/Fellswap Papyrus (Undertale), Sans/Underfell Papyrus/Underfell Sans (Undertale), Scent Kink, Sibling Incest, Spitroasting, The Significance of Collars in Fell-verse culture, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: An edited and slightly altered version ofa piece done for Kinktober 2019.Inspired by, written in the style of, and makes heavy references to theain't this the lifeseries bynilchanceUnderfell is no longer the only universe where Sans ends up putting his mouth to questionable use.
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Papyrus/Sans/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 64
Collections: Kamari333 Gifts and Prompts





	1. Edge's Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kinktober 2019 : Kamari333 Edition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840810) by [Kamari333](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333). 
  * Inspired by [the trick is to keep breathing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209473) by [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance). 

> Meant to theoretically take place sometime after [part 31: heavy with mood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703179)
> 
> This is really only getting its own publish work setup because Nil liked it so much I wanted to gift it to them properly. ILY Nil you're awesome <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine, until it's not fine.  
Edge just can't catch a break.

Edge felt the smirk curl unbidden on his face as he leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching what he would have to rank as his third favorite sight in all of creation.

Red and Sans were curled up on the couch, limbs tangled in that way only two stoners who had intimate knowledge of each other's bodies (or a pair of particularly affectionate cats) could manage. Sans was tucked under Red's chin, sockets closed as his chest rose and fell in a steady, calm rhythm. Red wasn't much better, sockets only cracked open enough to have his eye on Sans, that deep, primal satisfaction oscillating in his ribcage to come out like the engine of a motorcycle he secretly admired. Red rubbed his face over the top of Sans' skull, then, with as much reverence as a godless man could ever muster, brought the wrist where Sans still had Edge's collar wrapped securely up to his cheek, nuzzling into both the palm of Sans' hand and the treated leather with the sort of territorial pride one would think long bred out of sapient creatures.

Edge had all of five seconds to bask in the moment, before the world turned on its head. One instant Edge was in his own home, the next he was _not_, no matter how similar it may have appeared. He felt that split fraction of an instant where he knew he was not in control, freefalling and struck by intense vertigo, only for it to come to an abrupt halt, knocking his feet out from under him.

Then he was struck over the head by something, and the world went black.

The next thing he knew, Edge was blinking a persistent darkness from his vision, his skull aching from the strike he had not seen coming. His pride hurt far worse, and a quick self check showed he hadn't lost a single hit point (or if he had, it had healed itself). A longer, more detailed evaluation showed that his circumstances were a tad more alarming than he could have hoped: he could feel the weight of thick cuffs on his wrists and ankles, buzzing with the tech to suppress his magic. There would be no breaking out of them. Worse, his arms were pinned over his head, securing him to the wall he was slumped against. The indignity of having something thick stuffed in his mouth, tasting faintly of leather, was only icing on the proverbial shit cake.

A soft rattling on Edge's right drew his attention. He turned his head, blinking the sight of his brother, similarly trussed up in irons and pinned to the wall like a calendar that might have been trying to look sexy but failed in the expression. The noise Edge had heard was the shaking of Red's chains as his fists trembled. Red's whole body was tense as a guitar string ready to snap at the first attempt at being played, the exact opposite of what Edge had seen before the universe picked up their snowglobe and shook it. His brother's eyelights flared to vivid stopsigns as he stared straight ahead. There was a gag in his mouth, a cumbersome rubber thing that his teeth had already begun to destroy, shredding as he ground down with his sharp fangs. His expression was one of utter fury, animalistic vitriol that Edge knew meant there would be a rather messy murder on his hands soon enough.

When Edge followed his gaze, he understood, the same territorial outrage ripping through Edge's every pore, filling him, and for a split second, Edge lost his grip on his carefully manicured control, his body moving without his permission, a lunge that was held up short by his bindings. Edge scrambled to beat down the fury, the mindless rage, wrangling back his control with the wherewithal of a zookeeper tending to a starved lion.

In front of them was Sans, thankfully, _blessedly_ alive and unharmed. A weight on Edge's shoulders lifted, having confirmed both Red and Sans were still in one piece. The issue (and the heavy, cloying dread and fury in Edge's soul said it was a _big issue_) was that Sans was not alone by any means. Looming over him, hands on his throat as they clipped a collar around it, was a tall figure wearing a long black coat, the hem and hood lined by faded yellow fluff and padding that had seen better days.

Edge knew that the collar being clipped onto that exalted place Sans called a neck wasn't the one _he_ had given Sans (seeing it still safe on his wrist where it belonged). The idea of someone else trying to claim Sans as their own made Edge's marrow boil and sing with the demand for violence.

The click of the buckle was like an alarm, and Sans' limp body began to stir from its spot on the couch.

The low chuckle from the figure who had trespassed on Edge's territory sent a shiver down his spine, a low key terror and confusion not unlike seeing a face reflected in clear glass, distorted and foreign until it was brought into focus as your own.

Sans looked up at the figure, at a much better angle to see into the fur lined hood. His expression was one Edge had hoped never to see again, a perverse recognition hidden behind a mask of indifference, innocuous by itself, but a clear indication on Sans that something was very, possibly catastrophically, _wrong_.

"mornin', darlin'," came the low drawl. "hope yer comfortable. we gotta have a lil chat." The sentiment was punctuated by slender fingers clipping a leash to the collar erroneously coiled around Sans' throat.

Edge didn't miss the way his brother's body jerked, a muted growl coming from him that Edge could easily imagine being born as a string of obscenities articulating in graphic detail what anatomical locations the leash would be better off being relocated.

Sans' grin sat taunt on his face, and maybe nobody else would have noticed how his one hand went to feel, not the weight around his neck, but the weight on his wrist, thumbing the leather that buzzed with Edge's magic. The vulnerable motion was simultaneously gut-wrenching and satisfying, a sick part of Edge's soul taking pride that _he_ was the one that gave Sans comfort, instead of being horrified that he needed said comfort to being with. As if the thought had somehow drawn his attention, Sans's eyelights flicked to one side, taking Edge and Red in. There was a flash of emotion, the briefest crack in his mask, like headlights from a passing car speeding by the bedroom window in the dead of night, blindingly bright for but a moment before moving on, leaving Edge unable to determine what it was he saw long after it was gone.

The figure tugged on the leash, drawing Sans' attention back to him. "eyes on me, darlin'. dont ya worry about them. if this is all some misunderstandin', they'll be fine."

"heh," Sans' laugh was dry, humorless. "not really worried about them." The emphasis was so subtle Edge could have easily missed it: Sans wasn't worried about _Red and Edge_. He had faith in them. He trusted them. Knowing Sans, he was more worried about whether or not Edge would be adding to his EXP. He was both admirably astute and infuriatingly foolish. "hi. i'm sans."

"i noticed," the figure hummed, holding the leash taunt as he reached to stroke Sans' cheek. Edge tried to will those unworthy fingers to dust.

Sans looked like he was ready to bolt, tense and skittish and no longer breathing quite so evenly. Edge would have preferred it if he had. He tried to tell him as much, the command to run bastardized into garbled incoherence. The noise drew Sans' attention back to him for a brief moment, the look on his face one Edge had hoped he wouldn't see again. The phantom ring of ceramic hitting a distant kitchen floor rings damning in his skull.

This time, Sans doesn't bolt.

Edge cannot for the life of him fathom why.

"ARE THEY AWAKE??" A voice calls from the other room, a voice that again nags at Edge's mind, a distorted reflection he cannot discern through the fog.

"yes, m'lord," the taller one calls, turning. It is then that Edge sees his face, and flinches. The face is angular, with prominent cheekbones and a noble brow ridge, handsome in its own way. Edge thinks so, because it is his own face, in the way that Papyrus' face is his face, and that Red's face is Sans' face; the same, and yet so very different. This one has scars and sharp teeth, but both of his upper canines are missing, replaced with false ones in dull gold. When he sees Edge looking, the cocky smirk looks foreign and out of place on his face, something Edge had grown used to seeing on his brother's more than in his own reflection.

Edge suddenly understands the conflict that Sans had been suffering through, even though he despises it on a fundamental level. At his side, he can feel Red reevaluating the level of rage he was prepared to unleash. It says something about Red's priorities, that he would balk at striking out against another Papyrus, even now, the shadow of a softness he would break one of Edge's ribs for acknowledging. Edge can't blame him, given his own behavior.

Edge considered that they were all alive and unharmed again through this new information, and wondered if maybe this new creature had the same softness.

The click of distinct footsteps heralded the owner of the other voice. Edge's view started with the leather bitch heels, trailing up to see that, yes, it was another monster with his brother's face, this one scarred from the scratch of claws over his right socket. The smirk, one of confidence and smug satisfaction, fit much better on such a face.

"WHY IS THE FREEXP-" and Edge couldn't help the snarl in his throat any more than Red could have, hearing that term used for Sans- "UNBOUND, MUTT?"

"hard ta put a cuff on him, m'lord," the taller one replied.

The shorter one, Lord, (because Edge needed to put a name of some kind to him, to settle in his mind that he was neither Sans not Red, neither his brother nor his lover, nor the one whom he had offered his affections) snorted, giving the taller, Mutt, a dry, unimpressed look, before turning back to Edge and Red. "NO MATTER. JUST KEEP HIM OCCUPIED WHILE I INSPECT OUR INTRUDERS."

Lord licked his teeth as he strode closer, and Edge felt the shadow of what it was like to be prey, not unlike being pinned by Red's hungry gaze in the quiet of their bedroom. Lord stood in front of where Edge was forced on his knees, looking down at him. Edge went still, glaring at the monster that dared to treat his family so. Lord brought his leg up, slamming the heel of his boot into the wall between Edge's head and his arm with enough force to crack the drywall. Edge did not give him the satisfaction of flinching, nor allowed his gaze to wander below his shoulder height, despite the fact that Lord had basically presented himself, open and provocative in his limberness.

Why Edge was surrounded by incredibly attractive yet surly, mercurial creatures he would never know. Perhaps it was the multiverse's cruel form of karmic retribution. 

Infuriatingly (and in a fashion that reminded Edge all too much of Red, for good or ill), _that_ only made Lord smile wider. "YES. I LIKE THAT LOOK IN YOUR EYES. FIERCE. PREDATORY." He licked his teeth again. "JUST MY TYPE."

Red's expression and body language telegraphing just how much he was going to bite Edge when this was all over. Edge looked at his brother and felt the full weight of the work he was going to need to put into fixing what today had caused, the tension and the aggression and the bitterness he would have to (literally and metaphorically) choke out of him.

Lord gripped Edge's chin, turning him back to face him roughly. "NOW NOW. BAD DOGS DO NOT GET ATTENTION. YOU LOOK AT ME."

Edge saw Sans from the corner of his eye, over Lord's shoulder. Sans was staring back at them with a worryingly blank expression. It was almost dark in nature, yet Edge could not have pointed out what it was about it that made him think so. _He was smiling, almost impossibly wide, his eyelights shrinking slightly-_

Ah. That was why. It was the same look Red got when he was contemplating murder. How thrilling, to see it on Sans' face.

Lord either did not notice (unlikely) or did not care that Red and Sans were giving him the stink eye. Edge saw Mutt pick Sans up bodily, sitting down on the couch in his place and putting Sans on his lap. "so tell me, darlin', how did a pretty thing like you end up with ruffians like them, huh?"

Sans was stiff, moving mechanically in a fashion that Edge had long associated with him being in pain. "magic," he answered, completely monotone despite making jazz hands.

Mutt laughed.

Lord shook Edge's face to get his attention back. "I SAID LOOK AT ME. NOW. DID YOU COME HERE TO ATTACK US?"

Edge shook his head, given the gag prevented any civil conversation.

"DID YOU COME HERE TO TRY AND TAKE ONE OF US FOR RANSOM?"

Again Edge shook his head.

"DID YOU COME HERE FOR ASYLUM?"

Edge fought to keep from rolling his eyelights, shaking his head a third time. Interrogation was significantly more fruitful when both participants could talk. The fact the gag was still in place told Edge this was more a formality, a game, Lord dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s. He only wished he could puzzle out what that game was.

"mlord."

"WHAT?!" Lord turned. "CAN YOU NOT SEE I AM BUSY??"

"this sweet thing is collared, but hardly smells like them."

Edge recalled the whole reason why Red and Sans had been high on the couch to begin with: Sans had been avoiding sex for some slight Red had dealt, prickly and spiteful and passive aggressive as any creature Edge could hope to love. Red had been using increasingly desperate methods to coax him back into his bed, with the only result being Sans digging his heels in like a stubborn mule. They'd finally bitched out their grievances while under the influence, stoned into bare honesty, and had been celebrating with a victory nap in the way only they could. It had been a week.

A week was plenty of time for Red's marks on Sans to fade.

"IF THAT IS THE CASE, MAYBE AS PUNISHMENT FOR TRESSPASSING, WE SHOULD SHOW THEM HOW TO TREAT A PET PROPERLY."

"show what?" Sans failed to parrot, the absurdity of it all shorting out his short term memory in a way Edge wished he could mimic, if only so he didn't have the words on loop in his skull.

Mutt thumbed at Sans' chin, smirking, a dirty look that brought a faint flush of orange to his face. "hows 'bout it, darlin'? want me ta show ya how pets oughta be treated?"

"MIND YOURSELF MUTT," Lord warned as he stood back from Edge. "INEXPERIENCED CREATURES NEED A DELICATE HAND." He sauntered out of the room, headed back in the direction he'd come.

Edge had to have been hearing incorrectly. This had to be some kind of fever dream. Did his LV twist up and start eating at his cognitive processes?

Sans' whole body relaxed, his head tilting to one side. Edge couldn't see his face, but he knew that body language, the easy curve of his spine, how it made his shoulder-blades and hips stand out under his clothes, how it made him look just as small and frail as he really was. Edge could imagine the face he was making, playful, friendly, resigned, utterly fake innocence hiding a dangerously shrewd mind.

Edge guiltily hoped it was the last face Assgore had seen before he died.

"how do pets get treated?" Sans asked, like he wasn't picking up on the mood, like he wasn't three steps ahead of them and planning for three more.

"well," Mutt purred, eyelights flaring as he looked Sans up and down, drinking him in, looking at him the same way Red did, that Edge had to fight not to. "pets 'r meant to serve. ya look pretty enough ta serve a very special purpose too."

"special, huh?" Sans shrugged. "whats in it for me? you're not the one who-" He held up his wrist, wiggling it gently to indicate the collar still attached there, not even acknowledging the one around his neck, the one tethering him to the smug bastard by the leash. Something about how _their_ collar didn't even register as meaning a _god damn thing_ to Sans made Edge's soul flutter with a satisfying pride. "ya know, i accepted and all. what ya gonna give me if i do this _oh so special thing_, huh?"

Mutt's posture stiffened, for just a brief moment, as if struck. Edge took vindictive glee in seeing the rejection affect him. Such a shame Mutt shook it off so quick with a smile. "tell ya what, darlin'. do a good job and i'll ask mlord real nice not ta break no fingers."

Edge saw the tension crawl up Sans' spine, an invisible spider leaving its web of trepidation, at the evocative imagery, the icy prickle of a memory (which he wasn't supposed to have seen) thrashing in the box of stolen treasures he could never take back. Sans' one hand twitched, where Edge knew one joint was just a little bit crooked and ached on occasion.

"heh. welp. can't argue with that. whats this special thing i gotta do?"

Edge could hear the joke Sans couldn't say, could hear in his head, could hear that teasing cadence while he casually said, just offhand, _'kinda need those fingers to, you know, finger me.'_ It was a joke he would have used to distract from the discomfort he never wanted to show, foretoken and betoken of a change in subject too quick to know the subject meant to be avoided (had one been unfamiliar with the signature form of bullshit that seemed to be standard dealings with anyone who ever once went by the name Sans the Skeleton). 

Mutt smirked, picking Sans up from under his arms and setting him down on the floor between Mutt's splayed knees. He kept a firm hold on the leash in one hand, palming his crotch with the other. "i'll be real nice and start ya off easy. just gotta use yer mouth, 'k darlin'?"

Edge still had a shit vantage point to gauge Sans' expressions, but he saw him glance over, face flushed that lovely powder blue that haunted Edge's fantasies. He could hear the smaller try to swallow, before turning back to face Mutt and the glowing bulge he was coaxing.

Red started to quiver. Edge turned to check on him, initially alarmed. It was a kind of perverse relief to see Red was not raging, but instead quivering with repressed laughter. Whether that laughter was the dry, humorless sound few lived to tell of, or the jovial one heard when an inside joke finally threw Red for a loop, he could not tell.

Mutt finally pulled out his dick, a long, ridged thing that looked nothing like Edge's own, from its shape to its burnt sienna color. "this here's a penis-"

That did it. Red cracked, doubling over as far as his bindings would allow and laughing so hard tears pricked at his sockets, glistening in the light for Edge to see. Sans didn't look behind him at them, but the quiver of his shoulders spoke volumes of how much he wanted to join in Red's mirth. Edge maintained his stoicism, but only just.

This man was about to stick his dick into the barrel of a loaded gun, and he had _no idea_.

Edge was less than sympathetic. If he focused on the humor of the situation, he could pretend that his entire being wasn't being suffused in puke green envy.

Mutt gave the two brothers a sideways glance before smiling back down at Sans. "go ahead, darlin', see how much ya can fit in yer mouth. just do yer best, no pressure."

Edge could hear the snark he couldn't believe Sans managed to keep at bay: _'sorry, but those are mutually exclusive statements.'_ Edge had heard epic tales of Sans' legendary head game, the kind which even Red would wax poetic about, if only to goad Edge into a fury of misdirected arousal. If Red's stories were founded on even a fraction of truth, this was going to be the surprise of a lifetime for the fool who dared to underestimate Sans.

And it was going to be burned into every corner of Edge's memory, just one more thing to lie away at night and hope he didn't see in his dreams.


	2. Sans' Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans' viewpoint of their unexpected adventure, picking up from the end of Edge's.  
Sans misses when things were simple.

Sans braced himself on Mutt's femurs, moving closer, getting into position. This would be just like the hundreds of other times he'd taken a stranger's dick in his mouth, just any other sunday afternoon.

Sans was starting to marvel at how easily he could bullshit even himself. There was _nothing_ normal about this particular dick sucking. _Edge and Red were both watching_. They were going to watch him take 6 inches of orange and cream popsicle down his throat and choke on it like some fat politician on a communist wishbone.

Something about that was making his magic churn in nervous bubbles, hot and tumultuous. It made keeping up the 40-yr-old-virgin act easier to pull off, since he didn't want Mutt to see it coming.

_Coming_. Yeah. That was low hanging fruit. Just like him.

Sans had hesitated enough.

Leaning forward, Sans gave a few small, brief, testing licks to the head and underside, making certain not to look Mutt in the face. Instead, he took another moment to glance at Red and Edge from his peripheral vision. Red had calmed down somewhat, but Red being able to reason didn't always mean he would be reasonable. Sometimes Red with his head on straight was the most dangerous, if you were on the wrong side of his fucks-to-give line.

It was a very thin line.

Mutt hissed appreciatively, reaching down to stroke over Sans' skull with the same hand holding his leash. "thats right, darlin', just like that, take yer time."

Sans was seriously considering denouncing his vow of pacifism, leaping back into that guy's lap, and knocking a few more of his teeth out, preferably back down his throat so he could choke on the shards. Only some of that was probably his LV talking.

Sans decided that this was taking too long. He needed to get it over with. Taking a deep breath, Sans plunged down onto the latest edition to his cock tasting history, swallowing until he had his nasal ridge pressed right up against the lip of his pants.

Mutt gasped, doubling over as both hands clawed at Sans' skull, desperation and shock gouging at the outermost layer of bone in sparking waves. He shook under Sans, legs quivering hard enough that Sans couldn't hold them still. Sans rolled his eyelights, scoffing with his mouth full of what had to be either virgin cock or cock that had never had a good blowjob in its life. Didn't matter to Sans, the end would be the same either way.

_Sucks_ to be him, though, didn't it.

Sans started to bob his head, using the flat of his tongue for that little bit of extra damp friction. The taste was all wrong (and Sans never expected to think that, to actually have a sort of palate for dong, like some kind of fancy cum tasting snob, but here he was, with a perfectly good dick in his mouth, actually concerned that the flavor wasn't to his preference) but he didn't let that stop him from performing. Sans fell into his usual easy rhythm, performing on muscle memory alone so he could check out mentally and just let it happen.

If Sans happened to carefully pry Mutt's hands off his head, holding them in his own, it certainly wasn't with any forethought, no, of course not.

Soon enough Sans could feel the telltale micro-motions, the throbbing, the extra heat, that meant ejaculation was imminent. Still holding Mutt's hands firmly, Sans pulled back until only the tip of the head was in his mouth, and laved his tongue over it _just right_. He watched Mutt arch back with a curse, coming in Sans' mouth with a shudder, before going limp into the couch cushions, still twitching with the reverb of his afterglow.

Sans pulled off him entirely, disentangling the leash from his hand and turning to spit out every last drop of Mutt's cum onto the carpet. He coughed, trying to get the unfamiliar taste out of his mouth to no avail. He wiped his mouth, blinking over towards the brothers still sitting against the wall, his vision blurred from breathless tears he didn't think necessary and would be filing a complaint to his body about at a later date. "jeeze, it tastes like tobacco and raw sugar. like licking the counter in a 7/11. red, come over here and rinse my mouth out."

Red's gaze bore into Sans, his body trembling as his grin stretched around his gag. He tugged at the shackles still pinning him to the wall, gesturing with his head. To Sans' amusement, there was a glowing scarlet tent in Red's shorts, which he was grinding shamelessly into the carpet.

Sans was pretending he couldn't see the larger tent in Edge's jeans, or the way his eyelights pinned him like crimson daggers, shredding his clothes and the familiar yet unfamiliar weight around his neck with his eyes.

"yeah. right. those. hold on." Sans stood up on numb legs and started patting Mutt down. Sure enough, he found a key in his pocket, dull iron that thrummed uncomfortably in his hand. He shuffled quickly over to the brothers, first to Edge, who accepted the help with as much grace and dignity as a man caught with a voyeuristic stiffy was able.

Before he could unchain Red, however, Edge gripped Sans' shoulder's firmly, a silent request to stay still. Sans swallowed again, nodding softly. As he expected, Edge's slender claws carefully uncinched the buckle on the collar around his neck, tossing it and the leash both aside . Somehow, Sans felt like the negligible weight had been so much greater, the act of it falling away leaving him feeling loose and free, even after so short a time wearing it. "thanks, edgelord."

Such a shame Sans couldn't linger to appreciate the pink dusting Edge's cheekbones, or how nicely _he_ seemed to wear a gag. Right shame. _He needed to stop staring. Now. Stop staring now._

Now, damn it.

When Edge began fumbling with the gag, unhooking it to dislodge from his mouth, Sans turned to Red. "now don't pounce on me till i get these off, okay?" The look Red gave him said 'no promises,' which Sans figured was fair enough. He got the cuffs off, and then started helping Red remove _his_ gag, the rubber disaster having gotten stuck to his teeth from repeated gnawing like one would expect from a rabid dog.

It wasn't 5 seconds after Red's jaw was free of obstruction (during which he'd stretched and shifted it to test that it was still functional, as deadly as ever) that he yanked Sans in for a vicious, predatory kiss, thrusting his tongue down Sans' throat and pulling him into his lap to grind into him. Sans let himself go limp, shaky arms going around Red's neck as the full weight of what was happening finally hit him.

It wasn't a hug. He was holding on so he wouldn't fall over. Red knew that, and if he didn't Sans would just inform him later, maybe with a pillow to the face and his cock in one of his holes (whether Sans meant 'his' as in his own or 'his' as in Red's, even he couldn't be certain, and if he were honest for once in his fucking life, he didn't actually care).

Sans was getting better at the whole honesty thing. Little steps.

The sound of those high heeled boots began to echo, terribly and curious, getting closer as the wearer returned to the livingroom. Red gripped Edge's wrist, and with a terrifying abruptness, dragged them all through a shortcut, his valiant attempt to take them home. Sans clung tighter, hiding his face in Red's shoulder so he wouldn't have to see it coming, if it came.

The face in the darkness.

Red rubbed Sans' back. An impossible instant of infinity, and it was spent tucked as close to Red as possible, nuzzling the collar around Red's throat and trusting he'd keep him safe.

Nothing else had kept him safe besides Red and Edge, and Edge was about as aware in the void as Sans was after being tentacle fucked for three hours.

Sans could feel Red scratching like a rabid animal at the space where the door home should have been, where it wasn't, as if he were trying to shred a new one open out of sheer force of will. The idea that Red would fight the void itself made Sans want to both laugh and cry, nuzzling imperceptibly closer and hoping he wouldn't get bitten for it later.

Or maybe hoping he _would_ get bitten for it later.

Yeah, honesty thing: Sans absolutely wanted bitten, right on his cervical vertebrae, big ol' shark bite with some bruising for decoration.

Something snapped, and with a feeling of being shoved, they were suddenly out of the void, stumbling back into Red and Edge's livingroom.

Red didn't so much sit as fall onto the couch, pulling Edge and Sans with him. Sans could only imagine how weak his legs felt after being pinned down for so long, not that Red would admit any such thing. Sans let out a shuddered breath, settling comfortably in Red's lap and staying in the safe limbo of his shoulder, where he could pretend his mouth didn't still feel slathered in nicotine and maple syrup left in the sun too long.

Red let out a snarl, low and vulgar and quivering in outrage. For a brief moment, he just sat there, arm still crushing Sans into his ribs as he no doubt threatened to break every bone in Edge's wrist. "strip. _now._" Red demanded. "the stink on you-"

"yeah," Sans admitted, pulling back just enough to start pulling off his hoodie. He was about to pull the shirt off, arms crossed and gripping the lower hem, when he froze, realizing with sobering insecurity that Edge was right there.

Red's hand came up to grip Sans' neck. "really need to get shy now?" The hand was firm, but not choking or restricting. Sans had no doubt that Red's weird consent kink would have it falling away if Sans backed up even an inch. Bastard was frustrating like that.

Sans checked on Edge over his shoulder. His soul tightened, feeling pinned down like a fly as those piercing eyelights stripped him without Sans having to do a god damn thing, looking into him and inexplicably judging him not only worthy, but desirable.

Sans couldn't say he understood Edge's taste, but he sure as shit wasn't noble enough to tell him to do better.

Sans leaned forward, pulling his shirt off slowly so Red would have time to let go, allowing him to toss it away. He took a deep breath, which he sighed out in a sort of nostalgic relief. He hadn't realized just how much his shirt had smelled until he was free of it. He must have spit up as much jizz on himself as the carpet. They would probably have to burn the shirt to get the stink out. Hopefully the hoodie could be spared a mercy killing.

If they could get Gaster's damned gunk-print off, a bit of off-colored scrotal fluid should be easy. 

His shorts came off much faster, letting him curl up in Red's lap, feeling the extra warmth he was letting off.

"yeah," Red rumbled, drawing out the vowel in a pleased rasp. "better. now, how'z about we do something about that mouth of yours?"

Sans groaned softly, shimmying down to sit between Red's legs, pawing his shorts down just enough to free the bulge that was already damp and likely uncomfortable. The scent of it, the familiar shape and color, made Sans' mouth water, which only made his desire to get something better in his mouth that much stronger.

"that fucking thirsty for my cock, huh?" Red asked, leering down with that predatory smirk. Sans could still see the edges of his tempestuous rancor still shimmering on the blade of every tooth, in the crevices of his sockets, waiting like an angry viper to strike. Seeing the malice still glittering like indomitable confetti made Sans wonder how the hand still on the back of his neck could exercise such restraint.

Normally, that sort of comment out of Red would require one of the many snarky retorts Sans kept on hand for a rainy day. Normally, Sans didn't feel like the inside of his mouth had been coated in salty, cum stained peanut butter soaked in tobacco and sugar water.

Sans leaned in to mouth at the side of Red's dick, laving his tongue slow and sweet, tasting the pre that coated it in a thin layer, before taking him, bobbing his head over the first few inches and swirling his tongue in teasing circles. The familiar taste, the musky odor, like a puzzle piece sliding neatly into place, settled heavy in Sans' pelvis. It was almost painful how fast his magic snapped into place, his cunt dripping and clenching in sudden, unbearable need. Sans was acutely aware of how long it had been since Red had fucked him: 6 days, 14 hours, and 20 minutes, give or take. He shivered, the feel of his girth between his teeth reminding him of how it would feel in other places.

Sans looked up at Red, taking great pride in how his head hung back, his neck no better than a pool noodle as he rasped out a rapturous sigh, watching him through slit sockets. "thats fucking right. heh." His grip on Sans' neck tightened, and he yanked Sans down more onto his length, breaching the rapidly forming softness of Sans' summoned throat. Sans couldn't repress his moan, not with his mouth stretched so wide and his throat opened up so perfectly. "didn't-" Red had to stop to stifle a moan of his own, his hips stuttering as he wrangled with a throaty groan that added another tick mark to Sans' side of the scoreboard- "didn't hear you moaning like a bitch in heat around _his_ cock, did we?"

Sans pulled off of Red with a significant amount of reluctance. "don't let it go to your head."

"too late," Red growled. "now get back to it."

Sans gripped Red's femurs, lingering just out of reach. It would have been the simple answer, to just dive back down onto Red and not come back up again until he'd killed a few brain cells from lack of air. Simple, easy. But as great as Red's dick was (_and, again with the honesty, Red's dick was amazing, the best damn dick Sans had ever had, always hitting just the right way and making his soul pulse at every thrust, just, a marvel of a dick, and wasn't it a damn shame it was attached to Red? no, not really, damn his honesty, he needed to get back on his bullshit before he actually started saying some of that out loud_), the thing wasn't nearly as long as the one that had left its overly sweet slime inside him. If Sans was going to feel clean again (barring the option of drinking a few gallons of bleach), he'd need something a bit longer.

Sans looked at Edge. _His would be long enough._ Sans was certain of it. And given the intensity of his gaze, how Edge continued to look at him like the weight of his eyes could get him off, he could imagine Edge wouldn't mind helping him out.

Sans caught the flicker of Red's eyelights darting between Sans and Edge, before grinning sharply (or perhaps _sharper_, since there was never a smile on Red's face that couldn't cut through iron). "yeah. i can work with that. boss, hows about ya help me flush his system?"

Edge sucked in a breath, clutching his patella in a white knuckled grip. "SANS?"

"what can i say? need a deep clean," Sans hummed, winking. Edge's hand moved with aching slowness, cupping the glowing bulge throbbing between his legs. Sans crawled over on his knees, settling between Edge's not-quite-as-familiar but still reassuring legs. He felt his summoned muscles spasm, liquid dripping down his legs and onto the carpet as he inched closer to Edge's hidden arousal.

"IF YOU ARE CERTAIN..." Edge said with the calmness of a rubber-band pulled taunt by a pear of anguish, his hands moving with the stiff fluidity of stop motion animation as he carefully freed his erection.

Sans shivered at the sight. Sans had always had a shrug where his willpower should be, yet he had managed to hold back from indulging from going anywhere near Edge's assets for a criminally long time. He supposed he must have paid his self control in advance.

He wasn't going to kill the mood thinking about why he had cashed in on his willpower savings.

Sans gripped the base that he could reach with one hand, bringing it close to his face to nuzzle. "don't worry, edgelord, i'll give it back after."

"sure ya will," Red rumbled, getting behind Sans and rubbing at his hips. "always do."

"and what are you doing back there?" Sans asked, as if he didn't know, as if he wasn't shaking his hips to tempt him further.

"exactly what your pretty little ass is begging for," Red answered, smoothing his palms over Sans' hips and grinding himself over his folds, lubing his girth with Sans' desperate slick, the obscene noises crashing through the air as loud as breaking glass. "god, you're like the damn niagra."

Edge was trying to hold still. Sans knew it because of the involuntary tremors he could feel running through him. Sans smiled. "i never fell that hard for you-"

"thats the best lie yet-"

"WOULD YOU BOTH SH-!!" Edge started to snap, his voice a blade trembling with restrained hunger. The cut off was quick, as quick as Edge himself, turning on a dime, forcing himself to soften the blow Sans knew he never intended to land a hit with. "PLEASE." The raw vulnerability of it clawed down Sans' spine.

Sans opened his mouth as wide as he could, and started swallowing down as much of Edge as he could take. Which, because oral was one of the few things in life Sans had ever been able to do even moderately well, was 'all of it'. The tip breached the first fluttering centimeters of his false throat, and then kept going, deeper and deeper into Sans until he could feel the tears of stress build up on the ridges of his sockets. The muffled panic that came with being prevented from breathing filled his skull with static, which was an added bonus to the comfortable, familiar pressure stuffing him from his shoulders up.

Sans settled in for a long, lazy session of being pleasantly used, slipping into that murky mindset that he associated with being held safe in their arms.


	3. Red's Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red's viewpoint, picking up from the end of Sans'.  
Red's definitely going to commit murder. But later. He had business and pleasure to take care of first.

Red hadn't wanted to leave. Not when the _rat bastards_ that had dared to touch what was his had still been in one piece. First that stubby jackass had made eyes at Edge, which by itself was enough to warrant instant death in Red's book, but then the other one had taken Sans' mouth.

He'd taken Sans' mouth and he hadn't even known what to fucking do with it.

The whole shit show had happened too fast. Red hadn't wanted to leave, but he had wanted Sans and Edge to _stay_ a hell of a lot less. Now that they were back, safe (or as safe as they could be, given that whatever the fuck had sent them there in the first place had done so from in their home, and Red was going to rip the universe, the multiverse, to infinitesimal pieces looking for whatever had done it and make sure it couldn't ever do it again, but later, later), Red was going to remind both of them who they belonged to.

Red rolled his hips again, this time making certain to catch Sans' clit with the head of his dick. There was nothing quite like Sans' cunt against his magic, soft and warm and always _so fucking wet_. Sans' usual composure (wall after entertaining wall of bullshit that Red had come to love dismantling like legos to watch Sans build back up) had been chipped and broken by the latest, infuriating events, but it was _Red_ who had been able to dig his claws into the cracks and work Sans into this kind of lather.

Well, Red and Edge. But that was equally satisfying.

Sans whimpered around Edge's dick at Red's little shift, his joints lighting up as though a powder blue fire had been stoked in his marrow. He felt the snicker bubble in his own throat, dragging his nails over Sans' hips. _He was so fucking beautiful like this, vulnerable and pliant and delicious._ Red couldn't see his face but he could guess from what he _could_ see exactly what Edge had a front row seat to: Sans' face, flushed that pretty azure; sockets nearly closed save for just the right amount to see his eyelights had blown up to twice their usual size; tears tracking down to mix with the saliva that fell in artful little rivulets. Edge was getting his first showing of how Sans looked when he was taken apart, and Red planned to make absolutely sure it was a good show.

"ain't he just a pretty piece of art, boss?" Red asked, still letting himself grind against Sans' fluttering folds. He felt Sans' hips gerk, trying to grind back into him as if he could set the pace. _Cute_. Red kept it slow, kneading at his ilium and letting his sharp claws tease with a few gentle pricks.

The way Edge's eyelights flared, his face turning that amusing pink, was everything Red had hoped for.

"sings like a damn bird too," Red bragged, pulling back just enough to line himself up for the plunge, curling Sans' circumference with the tip. "c'mon sweetheart-" And Red was going to ignore that second flare of color in his brother's face, going to ignore the softness at the corner of his sockets as he let his gaze drift up from Sans to look at Red, like Red wasn't going to notice, _like Red would ever want to be looked at like that-_ "howzabout ya sing fer boss, eh? sing real sweet and i might just give ya what ya want."

Sans made a sort of disgruntled grunt, again trying to move his hips to impale himself. Red refused to let him off that easy, squeezing his hips tighter and pulling back an inch. His dick was drenched in Sans' arousal, blue slime tinted to a pleasant purple on his crimson flesh. A string of it kept them connected until it snapped like overstressed wire, excess dripping to the floor to make an obscene bit of abstract art.

Catching Edge watching, Red wiggled his brows, his sadist's heart fluttering at the anguish of making both of them wait.

"nah, that ain't how ya sing, now is it? or maybe ya just don't want none? i'm hurt." Red was proud of how dry his mock offense came out, perfectly tailored to let them both know he knew better, but he was going to milk it for what it was worth. "well, maybe i can change yer mind, huh?" And with two of his cum slick fingertips, Red crept his way to Sans' clit, giving it a few teasing strokes.

The _noise_ that Sans made was like Red had ripped it right out of his ribcage, low and tremulous and desperate, lilting upwards with a satisfying trill that Red wished he'd recorded for posterity. He gave his own answering noise, that aching possessiveness stealing itself over his crusty, broken soul.

Red casually looked up to check on Edge, a pleased little grin tugging at his teeth. Edge looked near his breaking point, sweating and flushed and tense as a harp string, one little pluck away from his own undoing.

Red had always been the type to pick at things until they bled.

"there ya go, sweetheart, just like that. sing so _fuckin'_ good fer me." Red continued to rub steadily at Sans' easiest button (along with his clit), prodding at his hole to begin the slow, exhilarating stretch. "just keep that up. boss is loving every damn s-" Even Red has to take a moment, a heavenly, sinful moment to lose his god damn mind as he once more infiltrated those lazuline recesses he'd dug out and nested in like a second home. Sans feels like a tailored glove, form-fitting in a way that is simultaneously too tight and not. He always does, no matter how many times Red fucks him open.

The way those perfect little sapphire walls clench around him when he leans in, ghosting his parted teeth against Sans' waiting neck, is another little achievement in a game he can't stop playing. Sans trembles under him, around him, and by extension around Edge, and Red can smell how close he is even without the telltale flutters as a warning. "every. damn. second." He rasped, before beginning to thrust in lazy, precise rolls of his pelvis. His patella and spine are going to ache like nobody's business by the end, but that was a fair trade for the delightful whimpers he managed to wring out from the corner of Sans' mouth, squeezing passed the dick held there with delicate reverence.

Red knew that that was a mouth that had killed lesser (and greater) men, metaphorically and literally. A small, rational part of his mind said it was stupidity at its finest to let that kind of diabolical weapon anywhere near his brother. Red kicked that part of his mind in the fucking teeth and sent it crying back to its bitch ass mother, because: 1, that was the sexist fucking part of that mouth and only made Red want to use and abuse it more; and 2, if Edge couldn't have it, then Red couldn't have it, and Red was most certainly going to be having that snarky fucking mouth all over him in the near future. Repeatedly.

As if being reminded of it, Sans began to bob his head, wringing a hiss out of Edge above them. "FUCK-!!" Edge's hands finally rip themselves from their position clawed into the couch, one settling on Sans' skull, making small, coaxing circles, while the other hooked two fingers around Red's collar and tugged enough to put pressure on his neck, to remind Red that Edge was still there and could have him belly up at the drop of a hat.

Something nice to think about for after Sans was a mess of endorphins and cum.

Red bit down on Sans' neck, growling, letting every dark, possessive, desire he had out, trying to will the imprint of his teeth to mark the bone without needing to dig too deep.

Sans clenched down around Red like a vice, gushing slick as he shook through an orgasm Red could be proud of contributing to. He moaned, loud and shameless (a feat that had taken more work than Red usually bothered with, a reward well deserved for his dedicated tending of Sans' underappreciated body). Red knew just how it felt to have that noise travel through one's vulnerable sex, so he wasn't the least surprised when Edge bucked with another curse, clutching Sans' skull to him as he was finally tripped into his own end.

Red unclenched his jaw from Sans' throat and replaced his teeth with his tongue, laving a long, wet strip over the mirrored crescents one at a time. The discoloration was spreading, promising that it would culminate into a beautiful bruise, splotches of color to decorate the etchings in Sans' largely unblemished bone. A satisfied purr ripped through Red unbidden, but as he gave a few final thrusts before filling Sans with his own release, he couldn't quite bring himself to give a shit. So what if he showed a few signs that might be interpreted (with any range of accuracy) as affectionate. It wasn't a crime. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted and if someone had a problem with it, there was plenty of space underneath their floorboards for a dead body.

Pressing the flat of his teeth right up against his latest accomplishment, Red could feel the reverberation of Sans' throat, the tiny quivers as he swallowed fervently. Red looked up again to catch Edge's reaction, which did not disappoint: Edge was watching Sans swallow everything he had to give, and if the insatiable delight in those eyes was any indication, he was becoming just as addicted to the experience as Red had become.

They really were a couple of helpless idiots when it came to their pretty little liability. Red wouldn't change it for the world.

Disentangling himself Red pulled out, taking a brief moment to admire how his cum stained Sans' legs and lips, their colors mixing again into a delicious violet. Sans was slow to slide back, but he eventually eased himself off of Edge and fell into Red's lap, mouth still hanging open, jaw limp like the rest of him.

Red pulled him close, again pressing a territorial kiss to his bite mark, tilting Sans' head up to admire the mouth that had swallowed all of Edge's cum. "thats a good boy."

"HOLY SHIT," Edge rasped, gazed fixed on the two of them, unblinking, unwilling to miss a single second.

"yeah." Red agreed. He shifted, hooking Sans' legs over his own to spread them wide, still supporting Sans with one arm around his chest. Sans head lolled back, settling in the crook of Red's neck, where Red could feel the hot pulse of every panted breath. Sans smelled like him and Edge again, sex and sweat and familiarity, just the way it should be.

Red reached down, locking eyes with Edge and watching his gaze follow the arch of his arm, down to Sans' pussy. Red spread the lips open, letting more of his cum bubble and drip down to the carpet, leaving a wet spot to match the other that had long since been washed away. "ain't this better?"

"MUCH." Edge agreed, dragging the jagged pieces of his broken composure back together.

Sans keened, breathless and soft, squirming nicely against Red's body. "better..." he parroted in that slurred wet voice he always had post orgasm. "better..." He turned his face to hide more in Red's neck, a shredded, sleepy mewl vocalizing his comfort. Red felt the sound squeeze down on his soul. "bed?"

The question made Red snort. "fine." He tried to stand up, but while he was sure his legs would hold his own weight, they didn't seem up to holding Sans' too.

Edge stood up, scooping Sans out of Red's lap (and Red would have happily shredded anyone else who tried that to atomic pieces, vaporized them down to the powdered char) and stood waiting for Red to find his footing. Edge could have just started walking, but he was an idiot like that, instead waiting patiently as he cuddled Sans like one would cuddle a sleeping kitten, so that Red could keep pace with them.

Admittedly, Red was pretty sure he might have broken a few things if either one of them had left his sight, never mind both, and his brother probably knew that.

They headed up the stairs together, quietly agreeing to take this to Red's bedroom, and indulge Sans' weird (delightful) need for afterglow contact (and if Red just so happened to be more than a little indulgent in that need, if he decided it was fine to keep Sans tucked under his chin for more than five minutes, that was nobody else’s business). Red could suffer himself a few hours of hugging, and Edge could suffer through a few hours of being sweaty, musky messes before carting them all to the bathroom for a long, hot soak.

Red heard a hiss from the livingroom, the sound of a cat finding signs of an intruder in the home, and Red made a mental note to leave them a few strips of dried fish. For now, he had to pay the ultimate price, and be Sans' pillow for the evening as Edge lay beside them, quietly plotting murder.


	4. Meanwhile, back in the other place...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was happening elsewhere, from the viewpoint of another kind of Papyrus.  
He's not thinking about what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this part is the one with the most editing. Its still not the best, but whatever.

Sans strut back into the livingroom just in time to see the other three disappear. He ground his teeth, the noise unmistakable even in its quietness, then turned his eyes on the last one left in the room.

Papyrus was still dizzy and blissed out, legs spread and magic glowing from inside his frumpy pants. He couldn’t quite repress the smile curling over his teeth, blinking spots out of his vision as he stared at the livingroom ceiling. He hadn’t expected that pretty little liability to be quite so talented with his tongue. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming, should have known there was more to anyone who wore a face so similar to his lord’s. He hadn’t expected it, not in the least, but it certainly made everything easier.

It was a shame he couldn’t have kept something quite so interesting, but ‘sacrifices must be made’.

His lord stalked over to him, lifting his powerful leg easily and stepping on his chest, leaning his full (if negligible) weight on him as he growled out, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!" His voice was soft but powerful, commanding and irresistable.

Papyrus grunted, smiling sheepishly up at his irate brother. "sorry, mlord. he was just too cute-" He cut off with a wheeze as his lord dug his sharp stiletto heel into his sternum. The prickling pain of the sharp heel digging into his bones was as delightful as ever, but he knew it to be a warning.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THIS REQUIRED DELICACY!!" Sans snarled. "I HAD PLANS, YOU USELESS DOG!! CAPTURE, SEDUCE, WINE AND DINE, COLLAR, AND THEN ENJOY.” He leaned in to grip onto the orange collar around Papyrus’ own throat, pulling it taunt so Papyrus would have been forced to look on him squarely if he wasn’t already compelled to do so. “I HAD FUCKING PLANS TO INTERGRATE THEM INTO THIS HOUSEHOLD AND YOU SCARED THEM OFF WITH YOUR USELESS DICK!!"

"we can get 'm back-" Papyrus countered, the words flowing from his tongue without any earnestness that could have quelled his brother’s ire. Papyrus was a frankly terrible liar, and they both knew it.

"YOU THINK THEY'RE GOING TO BE SO EASY TO WRANGLE NOW?!?!?" His lord let out a screech of outrage, letting go of the collar to cross his arms. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW ANGRY I AM WITH YOU?!?!?"

Papyrus' sockets hooded. "sure ya could show me~"

"YOU WOULD LIKE THAT TOO MUCH." His lord yanked his foot away. "YOU FIND THEM, YOU APOLOGISE AND YOU GROVEL AND YOU DO WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS YOU HAVE TO DO TO FIX THIS, OR HEAVEN HELP YOU BECAUSE NOTHING LESS WILL SAVE YOU FROM ME."

Papyrus licked his teeth. "yes mlord." _As if he had ever wanted to be saved._

Not that Papyrus had any intention of doing any such thing. He wouldn’t have let them leave so easily if he was actually interested in keeping them. With them gone and on the defensive, the other, taller one wouldn't be stealing his lord's attention from him. Cute as the other two were (that talented, curious little doll most of all), Papyrus didn't feel inclined to share with someone else wearing his own face, no matter how much his brother might like the idea. He was selfish like that.

Besides which, he looked like a stick in the mud. No fun at all.

Papyrus watched as Sans stomped back into the kitchen, likely to pack away the excess food he had been cooking to welcome their guests. He fixed his pants, uncaring of the mess they were in, then looked over to stare at the collar and leash that had been left on the floor with only a small, completely inconsequential twinge of regret.

It didn’t matter that he had been rejected. He didn’t want them anyway.

A week, maybe two, and this would all blow over. Papyrus would grovel and beg at his lord’s feet as he always did, and his lord would forgive him as he always did.

All would be right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonder if its worth expanding on this au... probably not but its something i can think about


End file.
